


hap-pie birthday

by haleofStilesheart



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dean Winchester Loves Pie, Dean Winchester's Birthday, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22393018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleofStilesheart/pseuds/haleofStilesheart
Summary: I know it's been a while since I've posted any fic, especially Destiel fic, but I knew I had to do something for Dean's birthday!
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	hap-pie birthday

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's been a while since I've posted any fic, especially Destiel fic, but I knew I had to do something for Dean's birthday!

They'd only been home a day or so when Dean caught the unmistakable scent of pie.

After a thirteen hour drive back to the Bunker from Tennessee, where a pissed off ghost had been killing people around Lawrence County, Dean had climbed into bed ready to sleep for a week. He didn't quite manage to sleep  _ that _ long but the ten hours of sleep he  _ did  _ get had him waking up refreshed and invigorated and a bunch of other adjectives he typically only heard on mattress commercials.

It was hard to tell what time it was with no windows in his bedroom but the old-fashioned alarm clock on his nightstand informed him that it was still morning. Pleasantly surprised at how much sleep he'd actually gotten, years on the road massively fucking up his circadian rhythm, Dean found himself huffing a laugh into his pillow.

With a groan, he rolled out of bed in search of a cup of coffee or three. 

He hadn't bothered to get changed for bed the previous evening, falling into bed fully dressed, not even kicking off his boots before burrowing under his blanket. He was thankful for it now, not relishing the thought of walking around barefoot in the perpetually chilly Bunker, the late January weather making it even worse.

He was trudging down the hall towards the kitchen, rubbing at his bleary eyes and yawning, when he smelled it. It was unmistakable, stopping him in his tracks.  _ Pie. _

At first, he thought he was imagining it, still half-asleep. But after pinching himself and sniffing the air a few times, he was sure it was the real deal. And it was coming from the kitchen.

Had Sammy gotten pie? Dean wondered idly. They'd definitely earned it after digging up a grave, getting tossed around by an angry ghost, dealing with local law enforcement, and interviewing reticent witnesses.

Already fantasizing about cutting himself a big slice of whatever kind of pie his baby brother had picked up — it smelled like cherry with cinnamon? And was that caramel, too? — Dean eagerly followed his nose to the kitchen. The sight that greeted him when he got there was like something out of his wildest dreams.

The kitchen table was covered with a wide array of pies, every flavor under the sun laid out before him like a heavenly buffet. There was an apple pie with a streusel topping and a drizzle of what looked like caramel; a banana cream pie topped with piped whipped cream rosettes and caramelized banana slices; a rich chocolate pie with a graham cracker crust and toasted meringue.

Dumbstruck by the sight, Dean walked further into the kitchen, drawn like a moth to the flame to the beautiful spread. The closer he got to the table, the more pies he noticed.

Beside the apple pie was a blueberry pie topped with intricate lattice work and garnished with a bit of lemon zest. And beside that was a peach pie, its crust the perfect shade of golden brown. There was even a key lime pie, boasting thick dollops of whipped cream.

It was like he'd died and gone to Heaven. But he was pretty sure they'd gotten rid of the ghost without dying in the process. Like ninety nine percent sure.

Glancing around for an explanation, Dean belatedly realized that he wasn't alone in the kitchen.

Standing between the kitchen island and the stove, Cas was smiling fondly at Dean's reaction, a spot of whipped cream on his cheek and a streak of flour in his hair. He was wearing an apron over his suit and trench coat, a sky blue and yellow monstrosity patterned with sunflowers and honeybees.

"Good morning, Dean," Cas greeted him casually, like it was any other morning. Like Dean hadn't just stumbled onto his ultimate fantasy. Regarding food, anyway.

"Hey, Cas," he responded, because despite his shock he wasn't totally devoid of manners. "Uh, what's all—" he gestured at the assortment of pies "—what's all this?"

Cas opened his mouth to respond, rare smile still in place, when the timer on the oven beeped. Turning around, Cas urged, "Oh, just a moment."

Slipping on a pair of oven mitts he opened the oven door and reached inside to pull out two more pies, one in each hand. He carefully carried them over to the kitchen table, adding them to the spread.

One was cherry with a decadent crumb topping and the other was a gorgeous pecan pie, baked to perfection. Dean drooled a bit at the sight.

"Whoa, wait," Dean said, reaching out to lay a hand on the bare skin of Cas' forearm. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, baring his tan skin. "You  _ made _ all of these?"

"Yes," Cas confirmed, nodding. "I wasn't sure if you had a favorite flavor so I made a variety to…cover all my bases."

It was obvious how awkwardly the phrase rolled off his tongue, eyebrows knitting together. But Dean could tease him about that later. For now, he had more important things to worry about.

"You made all this for  _ me?" _ Dean asked needlessly. Cas had already told him the pies were for him. It'd be stupid to make them for rabbit food-eating Sam and it wasn't like he'd make  _ himself _ pie considering he didn't need to eat. 

At Cas' exasperated look, Dean shook himself and asked a better question. "Why?"

Cas' look went from exasperated to confused in the blink of an eye. Tipping his head to the side, a ridiculous gesture that never failed to amuse Dean even after all these years, he simply said, "It's your birthday."

Dean blinked. Huh. Was it?

The timing was right. It  _ was _ January. But he'd given up keeping track of his birthday years ago. No use in celebrating his birthday when there'd never been any good reason to. It was just another day.

"I know cake is more traditional, according to Western standards anyway, but I assumed you'd appreciate pie more," Cas rambled, frowning thoughtfully. "As I said, I wasn't sure what flavor you prefer. If you'd like me to make something else I can. I realize pie probably isn't an acceptable breakfast food—"

"Cas, dude," Dean cut him off before he could work himself into an even worse tirade, "This is freaking awesome. Best birthday present in… Hell, ever."

He smiled at Cas, chest feeling tight as his heart swelled with affection for his ridiculous dorky angel. "I'll grab Sam and we can eat, yeah?"

"You sit, I'll get Sam and start the coffee," Cas countered, ushering Dean towards the table until he took a seat. He pulled his oven mitts off, setting them aside on the table and turning to go fetch Sam.

Before he could get very far, Dean reached out to grab his hips, reeling the angel in between his legs. Craning his neck to look up at Cas, Dean set his chin on Cas' chest, smiling up at, not caring how dopey or lovesick he looked.

Cas smiled down at him, raising a hand to comb his fingers through Dean's bedhead. Voice soft, he murmured, "Happy birthday, Dean."

"Thanks, babe," Dean answered, smile stretching even wider. The pie could wait. He already had everything he needed.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on Tumblr!! @ hale-of-stiles-heart.Tumblr.com


End file.
